Shit.
“Wherever he was hiding for the last six months, he’s burrowing again,” Baron says.
“And the sewer rats he was rallying?”
“M.I.A. as well,” Baron answers.
“For how long?” I snap, trying my best to keep my voice down.
“About a week,” Maverick says.
“That can’t be good,” Baron murmurs.
I shake my head. “No, it cannot.”
The only thing worse than watching Tristan fuck up my life is not knowing where he is, but knowing he’s still planning to fuck with me.
“You think he’s run off?” I ask.
“I don’t,” Maverick says. “I think he’s nearby. Watching. Waiting. I think he’s close to attacking. And he’s going to start wherever hurts us the most.”
I watch Amara smiling and laughing as she sits on the couch, all her friends gathered around her, including my mother and even Jenica as she opens gifts from everyone.
She’s happy. Loved. And she’s carrying my child.
The idea of someone wanting to hurt her sends fire through my veins.
45
AMARA
Ransome’s biceps flex as he reaches up over his head and his torso elongates, defining every muscle of his eighteen-pack. Okay, there aren’t actually eighteen. But there’s definitely a hard eight, followed by a hard V that tapers down into his slacks. Why the man decided to take his shirt off before climbing the ladder, I couldn’t tell you exactly.
I’m also not complaining.
“I swear to God, if you ever tape colored tissue paper to my ceiling again, I’ll?—”
“You’ll what?” I ask with a grin. Despite the fact he brought in cleaners to take care of things after the party, Ransome has legit spent the last two hours getting the last of the streamers off of the beams on the ceiling. I almost feel bad. But I’d also be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying the gun show. Honestly, the view from the couch where I am lounging in flannel pants (and a hoodie one of the yoga girls gave me that reads BOY MOM) is pretty damn good.
Ransome comes down from the ladder, showing off the rest of his muscles while he saunters over to me. He braces his hands on the arm and back of the couch, hovering over me. “I’ll remind you who’s boss.”
My lips curl in a smile. “Oh yeah? And what would you do?”
Ransome pauses long enough to smirk before his lips crash into mine. His tongue searches my mouth, teasing me, making me smile and moan into the kiss. My hands roam over his shoulders, down his chest and over his abs, and I giggle.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
“Apparently, cussing at the rafters was a workout. You’re dripping in sweat.”
“You’re right,” he says, tugging me off the ouch. “We need a shower.”
“Wait,” I laugh. “I showered this morning. I’m comfy.”
“Yeah?” he asks, reaching down and cupping his palm over me. Then he teases me with his thumb until my panties and even my fuzzy flannel pants are wet. “Looks like you need to change. And if you’re going to get naked, you might as well join me.”
“You’re terrible,” I gasp.
“You have no idea.”
